- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Beginner
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern Fantasy, Romance
[BCOLOR=#999999]It was a different time, a different enemy. Sixty men, from Tier One teams, were sent to face down a force of five hundred enemy fighters. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]Their objective: to force the enemy back from a civilian hospital, and keep its occupants alive. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]For three days, they held their ground, but the enemy's numbers were too great. The sixty were cut down to fifteen. They wouldn't last another night, and the enemy knew it. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]Under the cover of darkness, they evacuated the hospital, sending only one of their own to lead the way. The rest returned to the line, and took up positions beneath the bodies of their fallen brothers. As they lay in wait,the blood from the dead poured over them. The sand stuck to their skin like a shroud. Changing them. Anointing them. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]When the enemy drew near, the remaining fourteen rose out of the desert sand. They were like hunters that couldn't be seen, using stealth their enemies couldn't defend against. When the men ran dry of ammunition, they used their blades...and when the blades ran dull, they used their hands. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]When the dust and sand had settled, only one of the enemy had survived. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]He was picked up in the desert, wandering aimlessly, traumatized. He expressed warnings to others of a force so menacing and unbeatable, it could only be described as supernatural. He called them...[/BCOLOR]
"Ghosts".
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"Zulu 10-1 from Zulu base, you are cleared to engage."
"Copy that, Zulu Base. We are en route. ETA, two mikes. Zulu 10-1, out." Ghost looks at the rest of the guys in his five man recon team. They had been on this mission for over 72 hours, and finally the guy they were sent to eliminate was in sight. "Bali, get a bead on that sand-nigger. Blow his head off."
"Yes, sir." Bali looks through the scope of his rifle. He turns back to Ghost. "Sir, we have a problem."
"What is it?"
Bali hands him binoculars. "Take a look."
"Oh shit." In the compound where their target was hiding, were 200 radical troops. "That is not good."
"Incoming!" The words barely register in his ears as the RPG blows them off the roof.
Ghost lands on his back in an alley with a thud. "Ah, fuck." He gets on the comm. "Zulu Team, do you copy? Come in, Zulu Team!" Nothing but static answers him, but he hears a moan from farther down the street.
He pulls out his sidearm and stalks closer. He gets right on top of the man before he recognizes him. "Bali!"
"That sucked worse than the devil's balls, huh chief?"
"Hang in there, Bali. We'll get you out. This op is compromised." He goes to get on the comm to Zulu Base, but Bali stops him.
"Comms are down hard. There is no help coming. Get to the LZ. Before they went, I listened to our guys die. You are the last. Take my rifle. Don't let those bastards use it to kill American troops."
"Damn it, Nathan! Don't you die on me!" The light fades from Nathan Balisong's eyes.
Ghost climbs to the roof of a nearby house and activates his emergency beacon. In the distance, he hears the rotors of a chopper.
On that day, there were no survivors of Zulu Team, Seal Team 5. The one body that was recovered was altered drastically. Luke Romanov, Nathan Balisong, Levi Merrick, Marcus Brown, and Eric Montgomery were KIA in an RPG attack while eliminating a key Taliban leader in Baghdad. Only the body of Team Leader Romanov was recovered.
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Luke slowly gets off the cot and washes his face. Since that day, he's never been the same. The old Luke Romanov died that day, and was reborn into the man looking in the mirror.
He is the Angel of Death, the Terror of Baghdad. He is Luke Romanov. He is ......
Ghost.
[BCOLOR=#999999]Their objective: to force the enemy back from a civilian hospital, and keep its occupants alive. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]For three days, they held their ground, but the enemy's numbers were too great. The sixty were cut down to fifteen. They wouldn't last another night, and the enemy knew it. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]Under the cover of darkness, they evacuated the hospital, sending only one of their own to lead the way. The rest returned to the line, and took up positions beneath the bodies of their fallen brothers. As they lay in wait,the blood from the dead poured over them. The sand stuck to their skin like a shroud. Changing them. Anointing them. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]When the enemy drew near, the remaining fourteen rose out of the desert sand. They were like hunters that couldn't be seen, using stealth their enemies couldn't defend against. When the men ran dry of ammunition, they used their blades...and when the blades ran dull, they used their hands. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]When the dust and sand had settled, only one of the enemy had survived. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#999999]He was picked up in the desert, wandering aimlessly, traumatized. He expressed warnings to others of a force so menacing and unbeatable, it could only be described as supernatural. He called them...[/BCOLOR]
"Ghosts".
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
"Zulu 10-1 from Zulu base, you are cleared to engage."
"Copy that, Zulu Base. We are en route. ETA, two mikes. Zulu 10-1, out." Ghost looks at the rest of the guys in his five man recon team. They had been on this mission for over 72 hours, and finally the guy they were sent to eliminate was in sight. "Bali, get a bead on that sand-nigger. Blow his head off."
"Yes, sir." Bali looks through the scope of his rifle. He turns back to Ghost. "Sir, we have a problem."
"What is it?"
Bali hands him binoculars. "Take a look."
"Oh shit." In the compound where their target was hiding, were 200 radical troops. "That is not good."
"Incoming!" The words barely register in his ears as the RPG blows them off the roof.
Ghost lands on his back in an alley with a thud. "Ah, fuck." He gets on the comm. "Zulu Team, do you copy? Come in, Zulu Team!" Nothing but static answers him, but he hears a moan from farther down the street.
He pulls out his sidearm and stalks closer. He gets right on top of the man before he recognizes him. "Bali!"
"That sucked worse than the devil's balls, huh chief?"
"Hang in there, Bali. We'll get you out. This op is compromised." He goes to get on the comm to Zulu Base, but Bali stops him.
"Comms are down hard. There is no help coming. Get to the LZ. Before they went, I listened to our guys die. You are the last. Take my rifle. Don't let those bastards use it to kill American troops."
"Damn it, Nathan! Don't you die on me!" The light fades from Nathan Balisong's eyes.
Ghost climbs to the roof of a nearby house and activates his emergency beacon. In the distance, he hears the rotors of a chopper.
On that day, there were no survivors of Zulu Team, Seal Team 5. The one body that was recovered was altered drastically. Luke Romanov, Nathan Balisong, Levi Merrick, Marcus Brown, and Eric Montgomery were KIA in an RPG attack while eliminating a key Taliban leader in Baghdad. Only the body of Team Leader Romanov was recovered.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Luke slowly gets off the cot and washes his face. Since that day, he's never been the same. The old Luke Romanov died that day, and was reborn into the man looking in the mirror.
He is the Angel of Death, the Terror of Baghdad. He is Luke Romanov. He is ......
Ghost.